The Silent Flame
by Swallows Fly as Free as a Bird
Summary: Dominetta Vitali moved on since SPECTRE's operation Thunderball. Five years on from separating from Bond, a new organization wants to use her as bait, bait for an old flame.
1. New York

She always loved the city. The skyscrapers, the flashing lights of Broadway, the smells of cigarettes and cheap perfume. After the incident, she had parted ways with the man that saved her life. _James_.

That was nearly five years ago. She hasn't heard or received anything from him, but she didn't care too much. She knew what and who he was, and to think he would take time out of his day to phone was foolish. The dreams of a silly, naive girl, maybe. But not now, not the fully grown, mature woman she had become. Five years ago, she believed, she dreamt of a future with the debonair, dashing agent who charmingly came to her aid, coolly watching her board the Disco Violante where Emilio resided at the time.

But that was the past. What seemed ages ago, was merely five years ago. She was grown, mature, and kept to herself mostly. SPECTRE still existed, even with Blofeld's absence from command. The organization was dangerous, and she knew that. They had people nearly everywhere, and it wouldn't surprise her if someone was watching her. She had gotten into something much bigger than herself, larger and more powerful than what Emilio Largo had thought. And it was because of his naive beliefs that he got himself killed.

"Oh, Emilio, how stupid you were..." A dark chuckle escaped her lips as she walked down the concrete pavement, littered with gum spots, garbage and stains from various drinks and coffee. She didn't mind, she found it amusing how different the city was compared to the Caribbean's standards. The Bahamas was lovely, the rich streets and neighborhoods near immaculate. But that was then.

This is now.

She continued down 14th street, her tan leather motorcycle boots clicked down the dirtied pavement. She would occasionally step on discarded cigarette butts and trash, pass by smokers and people. She continued on despite this, going down the long street to her lovely black motorcycle which she affectionately referred to as her baby. She remembered the moment MI-6 questioned of what and where she wanted to do and go. They told her anyplace in the world, as long as she didn't go to the Caribbean or England, for fear of her interfering with Bond. It was a stout, older woman who questioned her, and she concluded this was M, the woman James spoke of highly. She wanted two things; a fresh start in New York and a Triumph Thruxton.

They agreed at the terms of her absolute silence, never to speak of the incident to the press and go behind their backs. She agreed, seeing their proposal more beneficial to her new lifestyle. Freedom and a nice, cozy job as an assistant manager at the local Triumph motorcycle retailer, next to a Ducati retailer as well.

She was never at a loss of fellow bikers and friends, and she felt at home here in the city.

That was all going to change tonight.

* * *

_A/N: I always loved Dominetta Vitali's character in Thunderball. This will have references to the book and movie. With a twist of Skyfall's baddie, Silva. :) Hope you liked it! This is a prologue. :D_


	2. Hello Ms Petacchi

He brushed his blonde hair from his eyes, smiling across to her as he spoke calmly. "I admire your will, Ms. Petacchi. You went against SPECTRE, all for one man." He paused hesitantly, gritting his teeth at the use of his name. "_James Bond_." She raised a brow at his anger towards the blonde, rugged agent. James always did seem to have enemies everywhere...

"I did it for Giuseppe." She said harshly, defending her decisions. She didn't do it for James, she did it for her brother. That was the excuse she told herself time and time again. It wasn't for Bond, but for her lost brother that was killed at the hand of Largo. She raised her left arm slightly and looked down to the glimmering gold chain. That moment on the beach played in her mind, when Bond admitted that Largo killed her brother. And other things... The man with blonde hair chuckled softly and shook his head, interrupting her thoughts.

"Ms. Petacchi..-" Dominetta glared up to him, frowning at the use of her real name. The blonde held his hands up in mock defense as a smirk played at the ends of his lips, finding her anger at the subject amusing.

"-Don't call me 'Ms. Petacchi'. I sound like an old woman. No one calls me Dominetta either. Call me Domino, considering our circumstances." She said resignedly and the blonde nodded, reaching his hand out across to her to shake.

"Raul Silva. Pleasure to meet such a lovely woman." Dominetta raised a brow in shock and bit her tongue, Silva chuckling and running a hand through his hair coolly. He planned for a worse reaction, something along the lines screaming and cursing. Instead the woman across from him only watched him with wonder and curiosity, her light brown hair shining from the orange slits of light escaping from the front of the van as they left New York. She opened her mouth to speak, making a motion in the air as she thought on why Britain's most wanted terrorist would want to do with her. That's when she realized that this wouldn't end well. For her.

Or Bond.

"I know who you are." Dominetta said simply, Raul grinning with enthusiasm. He smiled charmingly over to her and waited for more. Wanting to know everything about himself that she knew. Being dead- supposedly- meant that everyone had nothing to fear. With nothing to fear, the press and media had a field day broadcasting anything and everything on Silva. He was surprised to see the articles they wrote on him, describing him as a true 'evil genius'. It was entertaining, to say the least. Dominetta chewed on her lower lip, unsure of how to continue this conversation with this man.

"You don't work for SPECTRE. Do you?" Raul laughed at the question, shaking his head in pity.

'_This girl was paranoid.' _He thought interestingly and sighed. She merely brushed off his reaction and awaited an answer.

"Do I look like I work for such a silly organization? The Special Executive for Counterintelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, and Extortion? What type of name is that? Where's the _flare_?" He chuckled and Dominetta returned his enthusiasm. He was a interesting figure, she must admit. But if not the organization, then what?

"Then what is it, Mr. Silva?"

"I wish to employ you into my own organization." Dominetta raised a brow, boredly looking over to him. She was kidnapped, ran a good block and got her heart racing with thoughts of death and this is why?

_'He wants me to join his little terrorism squad? What?' _Dominetta's frown deepened, this situation becoming tenser by the moment. She had to chose her words carefully, or she may not see the next day, so she chose with what she felt was right. No.

"Then I will have to say no." Silva smirked, shaking his head as he laughed at her response. Dominetta grew suspicious and anxious, his behavior towards her answer was comical. As if this was planned or expected.

This was going to be a very long ride.

* * *

A week passed.

Her disappearance was realized when her motorcycle stayed at the corner of 14th street, her phone not picking up, and how she hadn't gone to work. Usually, New York is relatively quiet about these things. Kidnappings- except when children- or gang drive bys were usually kept mainly to the department, unless a child was involved.

In this case, it was neither. It was just a woman; single, Italian descent, managerial job, just an everyday person in the eyes of most. The reporters merely wrote a short article, writing a brief description and the number to contact the police for anonymous tips, all in goodwill to find this girl. However, one reporter trying to hit the big time, Jessica Long, noticed something strangely peculiar about the artificial light brunette woman.

'_She looks familiar, probably was in the news already._' Jessica would mumble, rummaging through old files and papers as she tried to dig deeper into the case of the missing 'Alessandra Sinclair'. Something was off about her, and there were major gaps in her record and biography. It merely stated the basics: name, birth date, appearance, family, and a short bio. Skipping through her childhood and adolescence, she did nothing but to graduate high school in New Jersey, 'Queen of Peace' high school, and then travel abroad to study for college. Then a brief job resume, she was a saleswoman, assistant, to manager. That was it.

Usually, Jessica wouldn't take much notice to a case like this, but something in her reporter's intuition and gut was saying this was a major story. Headline material.

And her intuition was never wrong.

She spent a week digging around for more, calling all sources and the schools Alessandra had apparently graduated from. She traveled down the long list of schools, ending at her high school, so far she received no leads, or nothing that could help in this case. As she dialed the high school, she looked around the messy office room and saw another cabinet, tucked between the wall and bookshelf in the corner.

'_I didn't look there, that's Larry's 'big' articles. Maybe...'_ The rings ceased as a bored voice answered the phone.

'_A secretary._' Jessica concluded and cleared her throat. "Hello. I am Jessica Long, a reporter for...-" at the other end of the line, the voice harshly cut in.

"-If it's about the gun in class, then I suggest you move on." Jessica raised a brow and rolled her eyes.

_'This woman had no patience_.' She thought irritably as she cleared her throat again and decided to make this quick.

"Can you please search for a 'Alessandra Sinclair' in your directory?" There was a grunt in response as she was then put on hold. Tapping her feet boredly, and thinking about what time it was, she didn't hear the disgruntled secretary talking.

"... Graduated... Class of 1993." Jessica jolted awake and then curiously- most embarrassingly- asked her to repeat it. There was a groan of annoyance and impatience, but she repeated it nevertheless.

"We had a Alessandra Dwyer...? That count? She graduated, was of class 1993. Ten years ago. That all?" Jessica jotted this down, this news feeding the article slowly forming in her mind.

"Yes. Yes. Okay. Thanks again. Bye." She said hurriedly and hung up, putting together all she knew on the girl. As she wrote up an article at her desk, her eyes wondered to the cabinet she hadn't checked before. Glancing from side to side, and seeing that no one was in the office but herself, she got up.

Slowly going over to the black metaled file cabinet, she decided to look through A-F. Browsing through it, she found a couple articles on a so-called 'Bond'. It caught her eye when she realized it was the man who stopped the terrorist, Silva. Pulling out all the cabinet had on him, which was a thick manila file, she set it aside. Seeing nothing else of use, she skipped a few letters and went to S-V.

She found all that needed to be found with five words.

Thunderball, SPECTRE, Vitali, Bond and Silva.

* * *

**A/N: A nosy reporter! DDD: Lol, what did you all think kiddies? :) I also am unsure of who Dominetta should be paired up with. I do love Daniel Craig :3**

**Andrea :)**

**Shout out to:**

**Sunday :3**

**LilyLunaPotter :)**

**:D**


	3. The Headlines

It was 5:12 in the morning when the phone echoed in Bond's flat.

It was rang continuously until Bond groggily got to his feet, shuffling his way to the other end of his bedroom until he reached his cellphone. It was Moneypenny. As he answered the call, Moneypenny did not greet him as she usually did. Instead it was a very direct and calculated tone, merely addressing him by his number.

"007." Bond perked up, his head clearing from the sleepy haze as he awaited for her to continue. He had to wake up from his sleepy state, the tone of her voice was enough to jolt him awake. "You are needed by M. Now." Her tone was dire, straining with animosity as she spoke hurriedly. Bond was already rummaging through his closet, pulling out his white collar shirt and dark grey suit coat. His trousers were already set on the chair the night before.

"What is it?" He was serious, mentally preparing himself for the worse. Something was wrong, was it North Korea again? Iran? Whereabouts on Silva? Bond hissed at the thought of that bastard, the anger and blood rushing to his head. He swore to find and kill, that son of a bitch... For Emma.

"Come in. Now."

* * *

He drove to MI-6 headquarters as fast as he could, without breaking the laws of course, and quickly headed inside the double O department. The Chief of Staff and Q were patiently awaiting his arrival, with Moneypenny waiting to escort the three. Usually, Q had a snarky comment to greet the double-O. It was a routine thing with Q always waiting for Bond with his black coffee in hand and a smirk on his smug face. There always was a common ground between the two men, a slow and complicated friendship between the agent and genius. That common ground being M, the woman that made the two work together in the first place. They both were hurt from the incident at Skyfall, and since then, Bond has become more silent and reserved. Q shut himself in, tinkering and trying to find Silva nearly everyday until it reached a point of obsession.

That incident was about a year ago. Since then, the trail for Silva was cold, the new M had settled in, and both men healed together, as a team.

"Q, mind telling me what the bloody hell am I doing here at 5:30 in the morning?" Bond hissed quietly, the young, shaggy haired brunette merely shrugged, just as confused as the agent. He hadn't been debriefed, neither had the Chief of Staff. The three men were completely in the dark as Moneypenny led them to M's office. The older gentleman sat with his hands folded on his desk, eyeing the three cautiously as Moneypenny was sent away.

"Please. Sit." The three men looked at each other carefully, before they all took a seat on the three red leather seats set before them. Bond sat between Q and the Chief, coolly watching their new M casually pull up the newspaper.

"Sir." Bond cleared his throat, raising a brow as M turned the page of the London Times, the paper crinkling at his touch. The quartermaster also raised a brow in confusion, glancing over to Bond and the Chief before they all looked back to M.

"Sir, if I beg your pardon. But we are...-" M raised a hand, silencing the young genius as he then pointed to a paragraph in his paper. Bond, Q, and the Chief didn't know what was the significance of the fine print was until M read it aloud.

"-'Today's headlines: MI-6 tying up loose ends. New York woman tied with agent mysteriously disappears.'" Mallory closed his eyes and shook his head resignedly, his face wrinkled and tired from the exhaustion of this job and stress. He obviously received trouble from his higher ups, and the Americans were constantly calling to hear more on this case. Bond raised a brow, curious to see what else was written. New York? What?

"Now. Usually, this is just rumors. But this is entirely something else. This American woman reporter, Jessica Long, has done some snooping. Snooping into things that are a matter of national security. And I quote- "The New Yorker woman, Dominetta Vitali," Bond's eyes flashed from M to the paper, his heart pounding with fear. What had happened to Domino?-"Mysteriously disappeared last week. Five years have passed from SPECTRE's 'Thunderball' incident, where she-" Bond groaned inwardly, this wasn't good.-"and a man, named James Bond, were romantically linked. He is a member of MI-6, a top intelligence agency of Britain. The same agency that was nearly exposed by Raul Silva. The terrorist that had bombed the building last year." M calmly put the paper down, refusing to read more of this trash of an article. Q leaned across the desk and picked it up, reading it himself as M watched Bond carefully, their blue eyes locking as he then leaned forward.

That information had leaked out, being broadcasted all over the world. Every dirty little thing about SPECTRE, MI-6's involvement, and how Dominetta had disappeared mysteriously, Silva, Bond, everything. Besides that, a rumor had surfaced that MI-6 was taking out loose ends, which was entirely untrue, but it lured people to buy every newspaper they could. It was a scare tactic. And when people are scared, they love to learn more.

"Did you love her?" The question was blunt, Bond leaning back in shock as he looked at M for a double check.

"Excuse me, sir?" M's voice strained, his eyes growing colder and annoyed.

"Did you... love her, 007? It is a simple question. Yes or no. Did you?" Bond felt his mouth turn dry, memories of the Italian woman coming to mind as he thought back on that day at the beach...

* * *

_"So that is why you made love to me-to make me do what you want. And now you blackmail me with the death of my brother." The words came out between her teeth. Now in a soft, deadly whisper, she said, "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you."_

_Bond said coldly, in a matter-of-fact voice, "Your brother was killed by Largo, or on his orders. I came here to tell you that. But then," he hesitated, "you were there and I love you and want you. When what happened began to happen I should have had the strength to stop it. I hadn't. I knew it was then or perhaps never. Knowing what I knew, it was a dreadful thing to have done. But you looked so beautiful and happy. I wanted to put off hurting you. That is my only excuse."_

* * *

Bond looked down, breaking his gaze from M as he then stood up slowly from the chair, a stoic expression on his face. Q and the Chief of Staff watched him carefully as he went across the room and opened the door, about to leave when he turned around to face the three.

"I did." He said darkly, anger flowing through him as he closed the door to M's door. He had never done that before, he had never left without the permission or orders from M. He just let himself out, seeing that he felt compromised. He almost beat the man at the news of Dominetta disappearing, and the department being blamed for it. He saw that same newspaper on Moneypenny's desk as well, angrily snatching it from her desk as he read the headlines.

"The hell is this?!" Bond shouted in anger, slamming the newspaper on Moneypenny's desk, making the laptop she was using jump slightly. Moneypenny coolly looked up from the Sony laptop, shaking her head apologetically. It was all over the news, making front pages and headlines world-wide. For such a silly rumor, it caught on fast and spread like wildfire.

"I'm sorry James. M, he made me read about the Thunderball incident and what happened to the girl. She... left you. Didn't she?" Moneypenny's voice was soft and caring, trying to comfort the double-O the best she could. Bond shook his head sadly, the memory of that night in the airport surfacing from the dark crevices of his mind. He wanted to shut it out, like he did with Emma's death. But some things couldn't be shut away, and he learned that the hard way.

"I left her."

* * *

**:D Well, thanks to my wonderful reviewers, I got the idea of James/Jessica. Well, a short time thing- like Strawberry in Quantum of Solace- of course. He needs his women :DDD **

**Daniel Craig is an amazing Bond, he and Timothy Dalton are my faves. They were serious, dark, and awesome, just like James Bond should be ;P **

**Also, I tried my best to be a moody Bond, how did I do? :/**

**Thanks Sunday and Lily, **

**Andrea :DD**

**P.S. His flashback is actually from the book, typed word for word from chapter 19 "When the kissing stopped" LOL, I hope that's not plagiarizing! D:**


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